A Year of Mystrade
by TheGov
Summary: A new Mystrade drabble every day, based on WordPress' 365 Days of Writing Prompts. Not in a particular chronological order. Sit back and enjoy more of our favourite British Government and his Silver Goldfish. I meant, Silver Fox. (rated T for now, may go up in future)
1. 01-01 - Stroke of Midnight

_January 1: Where were you last night when 2013 turned into 2014? Is that where you'd wanted to be?_

Greg slowly, and as quietly as he could, untangled himself from the silk sheets. He inhaled sharply when his feet touched the cold floor, but stood up confidently and looked around in search for something he could cover his almost naked form with. Having found his trousers, the detective walked over them, put them on quickly and after a moment of hesitation pulled a navy blue, probably even more silkier than the bed's clothing, dressing gown around his shoulders.

He decided it was not enough to warm up properly, though. A hot cup of coffee would do. Even though the central heating was on, the flat was still rather chilly. No wonder, it was the middle of winter after all. January the first.

Greg smiled to himself.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd spent the New Year's Eve with someone that he'd actually wanted to, in place that wasn't a police station or a bloody crime scene.

But there he was. In a fancy flat, wrapped in an exclusive dressing gown and having drunk a champagne that probably cost more than he would save after putting aside his salary for half of a year. To be honest, just the company of the owner of the place would do perfectly, not that he complained.

And now the coffee, oh God the coffee. Lestrade bit down on his tongue, not to let out a loud, inappropriate sound. He didn't think he could ever get used to all that, still feeling out of place and with bothering thoughts piling up in his head, but he felt like for the future of that relationship which was just beginning to grow up (and perhaps for the coffee), he could give it a try. Definitely.

Deep in his thoughts, Greg didn't hear the steps of an approaching man, who a short moment later wrapped his slender arm around the cop's middle and rested the chin on his shoulder delicately. The detective only side glanced at him, shook his head with disbelief and chuckled, his silver hair tickling Mycroft's cheek.

"Happy New Year, Gregory" the politician murmured, before pressing a gentle kiss to the other's progressing stubble.

"Happy New Year, My"

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**A/N: Back with another Mystraaade! This time it's an attempt to get me writing every day, at least something small, and idea of which came from 365 Days of Writing Prompts from WordPress. ( . / 2013/ 12/ ) Obviously these are not strict fanfiction prompts, so I'll just try to adjust them a little bit.  
They'll be all beta'd (I think so, at the moment) but nor Brit-picked, since I have no one to do that for me, so sorry for every mistake of that kind, of any kind.  
Hope you'll enjoy that nonetheless! **

**And I know it's already 3rd January, I'll post the rest of the days asap so I can update the rest on the right days :)**


	2. 02-01 - Resolved

_January 2: Have you ever made a New Year's Resolution that you kept?_

Mycroft frowned, seeing his lover sitting all stiff on the couch and chewing aggressively on the stick from a lollipop he had eaten some time already. Poor thing looked like it was crumpled by a raged, wild dog. While the comparison wasn't wholly correct, it had something in itself. For a few past days Lestrade was walking around angry and easily irritable. But it seemed that at least once the younger of the Holmes brothers wasn't a cause of the problem. Mycroft knew very well what was going on and while usually he was offering his support, there were times when he preferred just to get out of the way. This time though, he decided it was already enough.

The politician cautiously sat down beside the other man. He made sure to leave a decent amount of free space between them, as if the bad dog could really bite him, and waited.

And waited.

Greg didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence, only staring at the muted television playing in front of him, half of the stick stuck in his mouth. He wasn't even thoughtful, he was just... turned off. As is normal functioning would pull out the old habits.

Mycroft cleared his throat once, then did it again a little louder, and again, and when that still didn't catch the other's man attention, he reached and pulled the stick out from between his lips. Lucky day, the beast didn't bite.

Instead, Lestrade blinked confused and eventually turned to look at his lover. He regarded the man with a sheepish expression for a moment, before frowning and throwing himself back into the seat. "Give it back" he muttered, barely extending his hand.

Mycroft without mercy broke the stick in few places and dropped it onto the coffee table. At least it was just a piece of plastic and not something metallic, but he wouldn't say chewing on it was the safest task. "You will harm yourself, if you keep doing that." He answered calmly and turned a little more towards the detective.

Greg snorted, the small _damn you_ under his breath didn't go unnoticed too.

"I thought you... gave up giving up?" Mycroft asked slowly.

"Yeah, I did, I mean..." the older man sighed, running a hand through his hair. He tried to give up smoking long ago already. He was successful, even. But then of course, of course something had happened and had made him smoke again. "I was on a good way already, but after your bloody brother... Well, now when everything's over I thought about quitting again. You know, a New Year's Resolution."

Holmes' eyebrows went up. "A New Year's Resolution?"

"Yeah, a New Year's Resolution. What is wrong with New Year's Resolutions?" Greg frowned.

"They just seem childish to me. Why, out of millions different things you were going to do either way, you take just one and call it in a special way? Or, why do you try to convince yourself you are going to achieve something, whilst in reality you know it will end differently?"

The detective only frowned further at the explanation. "You never do such thing? You or Sherlock? Everyone makes New Year's Resolutions!"

"No, Gregory never."

Unexpectedly, Greg lit up at the answer, leaned forward and rubbed his hands. "So we'll find you one!"

The other man only gave him the best of his_ Must you, Gregory_ looks and began to fiddle with the remaining of the stick.

"What about... hm, well, you could quit with me. Don't look at me like that, I know you are always keeping an emergency pack around."

"It's not going to happen."

Greg sighed and after a moment of thinking proposed a few more things, each one rejected by Holmes. The one about cake made the politician glare at his lover, but he was glad that at least he managed to bring his good mood back, judging from the giggles the man was letting out.

"Okay, and what about that one" The detective started, calming down eventually. "You will stop ignoring your days off and stuffing them with unnecessary work."

Mycroft was about to protest, but the silver haired man raised a hand to silence him, before he continued.

"What if my resolution will be to make this time worth it?"

The politician closed his half opened mouth in order to consider the proposition, and was given a soft kiss against the lips. "All right" he murmured against Greg. "I can accept that proposition."

"Good" Lestrade purred in answer, moving fully towards the other and pushing him down to the seat delicately. "We can start today."

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** Hello there! Thank you all for your follows, faves and reviews even!**  
**I swear, once I get into writing again the stuff should be more likeable. Anyway, hope you still like it enough to keep reading and thanks once again!**


	3. 03-01 - Kick It

_January 3: What's the 11th item on your bucket list?_

Mycroft paced around the room nervously. Oh God, that was just ridiculous, how he, Mycroft Holmes could do _anything_ nervously? He stopped in his tracks, took a deep breath... and started to wander around again. Only that seemed to help at the moment.

He blamed his parents for all of this. Both of them.

Father, father because it was him, who used to walk around the house when he was nervous. Whether it was because of concern about his sons' education or, later on, their isolation. The problems that needed to be thought over, that needed to be somehow tackled and eventually resolved, all of them were usually delt with after the head of the Holmes manor made his circular way through the room.

And the mother, oh, she was to blame for whole this absurd situation, actually. If not her, Mycroft would have been just spending another domestic evening by the fireplace, probably with a glass of fine Scotch in his hand and an interesting book in the second one. Yes, it would have been looking exactly like that, if not Mummy Holmes' beliefs and the gift to make the others embrace them and accept as if they were their own.

One of the things she was absolutely devoted to, was their house. The mansion actually. The name wasn't really important as long as Mummy held power over the place's look and atmosphere. And it was treated almost as her third child. She would always take care of every detail, every single matter that needed attention. She would do that and say that the home is a pure reflection of its residents, of their insides. Mycroft was raised up with that conviction, stronger than when it came to Sherlock since he was older, and with it left the family house to get his own nest somewhere in the world.

Now, after all these years, and despite the pretences, the elder brother still had the thought stored in his mind and nursed carefully. Even if Mycroft's current place of living to most people seemed rather ancient, full of old and expensive objects but not the ones you'd really get attached to, it wasn't like that. It was just how he liked it. He was used to replacing things - starting on his silk bath gowns, going through phones, paintings and finally finishing on the stuff he employed - but it was the one he didn't want to replace. Instead, he intended to do something completely different.

The other task though, it was again something Mummy Holmes had told him. She always like to call it a mile stone. "If you find someone dear to you" her words echoed in Mycroft's head as he turned and started to walk towards the window again "share with them something else you find dear. When you're ready, and only if you think they truly deserve it, give them the key and they will know it's not an ordinary key, but the key to your heart."

Mycroft took another deep breath when a sudden knock on the door stopped his train of thoughts. It was the time.

It was the time to give his heart into Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade's hands.

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**Just a very loose interpretation of the prompt.**

**Day 4th and 5th, maybe also 6th, will be probably uploaded tomorrow. Sorry for the delay!**


	4. 05-01 - The Wedding

**Minor spoiler to The Sign of Three**

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_January 5: I need Lestrade being sad at the wedding, leaving the wedding, and admiring Mycroft's stomach._

Greg looked around awkwardly, as the dance floor started to fill up with couples. He hadn't danced in years, not that anyone would ask him anyway. All the people he knew, recognised at least, were busy with their own partners and even that old lady always bringing him tea on 221b managed to find herself someone.

When someone stepped on his shoe and then immediately disappeared, leaving behind only a barely audible_ sorry!, _Lestrade decided it was his time to leave the reception.

He pushed his way through the crowd to the door, with one hand already looking for a pack of cigarettes. When finally outside, he pulled one out, lit and blissfully let out a cloud of smoke, looking up to the sky. Too early to go home, too late to wander around.

Greg smiled, when the idea hit him, forgetting about the fag for a moment and fishing out his mobile. He quickly dialed the number and raised it to his ear, another portion of smoke floating up from his lips.

_"Gregory?"_

The detective smirked triumphantly when he heard the surprised voice on the other end of the line. It wasn't that often he got to really surprise the man.

"Evenin'. Got a car to spare?"

_"I thought you were attending the reception tonight."_

"Yeah, exactly" He stopped to let out a small cough and finished his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground and smashing with his shoe. "I was. Now I'd appreciate if you helped me out of here."

_"If you insist."_

Greg was almost sure he felt a hint of smile in the answer. Mycroft didn't need the address given to him, obviously, so he just hang up and walked away from the building in the direction of the road.

The car ride was calm and extremely quiet, contrary to the party Lestrade was just leaving behind. Neither he or the driver said a word, the latter politely ignoring cop's struggle to check if his breath smelled of alcohol. He had had quite a lot of that today, though fortunately not enough to get drunk properly.

On the place, before Greg even reached out to knock on the door, they swung open and a person in a three-piece suit appeared. The man rushed inside and soon enough was welcomed with a tender, almost shy kiss placed on his lips. Greg grinned in answer, shrugging off his jacket.

"What do I owe the visit?" Mycroft asked, taking a step back and regarding the other.

Lestrade took the occasion to take in whole politician's silhouette, the suit seemed to be more… loose? in places. But Greg was sure he knew that one. Even Mycroft's best tailor couldn't have done both identical suits. He tore his eyes away after a moment and glanced up at the other man's face.

"Started to feel a bit lonely. Weren't you going to be there? John said you had got the invitation."

"Oh, some… matters" the politician shrugged casually, smoothing down his waistcoat "kept me busy, and I'm afraid it's not in good manners to appear late, so I decided to stay at home."

"What matters?" Greg tilted his head. Usually Mycroft was not allowed to tell, but maybe this time he'd get to know something. "Sherlock said you were a bit… out of breath when he called." He added, moving forward in the direction he thought the kitchen was.

Surprisingly, the other man barricaded his way and blocked the entrance to the room, his hand reaching behind for the knob to shut the door.

The detective frowned, standing on his toes and trying to see anything over Mycroft's shoulder before the door were closed. He frowned further and glared up. "What are you hiding in there?"

"Nothing, Gregory" Mycroft pulled on a slight smile, which Greg found suspiciously nervous.

"_Who_ are you hiding in there?"

The politician sighed and shook his head. "No one, Gregory. The room is empty."

"Lemme see it, then."

"Perhaps the other time." Mycroft insisted, taking a step forward to manoeuvre the other man away from the accurst door.

Lestrade didn't seem like giving up though, and a moment later got behind Mycroft's back, pressing the knob.

He blinked confused. He had expected to see someone or something…. something. Something suspicious, something top secret, something _important_, for God's sake. But there, in front of him, appeared a casual fitness equipment. His eyes roamed over the devices for a moment, before they came back to Mycroft, who was now standing beside with a plain expression on his face.

Greg once more glanced down to the more loose part of fabric around Mycroft's belly and let his lips froze in an _oh_ expression.

"You solved the case of the mysterious room, congratulations, Detective Inspector" The politician said a bit stiffly and leaned forward to close the door again.

"So that's what you were doin'" Greg nodded to himself, his interest far away from the room now and much closer the man that owned it. A smile slowly appeared on his face, when his hands reached out and grabbed the lapels of Mycroft's suit to pull him closer. "Lemme see the results" He whispered into the other man's lips.

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**Cheated a bit, as you can see, first - the original prompt required using a first sentence from a book and I have really small amount of book in English therefore I couldn't find anything which would do; second - there's no reason to keep you waiting, especially as I promised quite a lot last time, so I'll update the previous and next chapter tomorrow, hopefully :3**

**Thanks for reading! *whispers* leave an opinion *whispers***


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